Two years ago, I was in the flight at this time. I was in the flight with my sister, rushing home because my father had passed away.
I still remember that evening, I was making a mat using old t-shirts,and my sister was telling me about the day. Just then, my mum called up my sister and the first thing my sister said after hello was- throw water on his face. And just then I knew he was gone. My father was gone.
It sucks when everyone around me is curious as to what happened to him. It stings when I have to be polite and recollect all the incidents that lead to his death. It’s worse when I see so many teenagers with their dads, I get jealous- because my father won’t be there to see me graduate, he won’t be there to teach me how to drive, he just won’t be there but their fathers will because they’re alive- breathing.
I’ve tried talking about this grief I often experience for these two years and it hasn’t left much of an impact. None of their- you have to be strong or you can always talk to me has ever really helped. Maybe because things like this are meant to be dealt with alone.
I am not ready to deal with it yet. It still feels like he’s just on a vacation, and he’ll call or text any minute and he’ll ask me about my day and I’ll be able to hear his voice. Someday I’ll learn to accept reality but just not today.